


event planning 101

by fated_addiction



Series: your freshman class [1]
Category: GOT7, K-pop, KARA (Band), Korean Actor RPF, 룸메이트 | Roommate (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He considers his list of options. It's 12:01 and his birthday is so over.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Jackson tries and learns how to speak <i>Youngji</i>. Somehow Mark becomes the beacon of wisdom in all of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	event planning 101

**Author's Note:**

> As per a lovely tumblr request. Thanks for all your wonderful comments!

The bedroom is, like, a tiny bit weird when Kang Joon isn't around. Jackson is the first to admit it; he hates sleeping alone _and_ having a quiet room.

He considers his list of options. It's 12:01 and his birthday is so over, he's made sure he saved the messages from his parents at least ten times, he can't _exactly_ wake up his hyungs (Dongwook _might_ kill him), he's not at the dorms, and --

"She's going to kill me," he mutters.

His mouth twists and he picks up his phone from the floor. Youngji has an early flight tomorrow. He finds her name at the top of his texts.

WAKE UP.

It takes less than a minute for his phone to light again. _NO._ He laughs softly. _Wang Jackson, I'm trying to sleep. I'm cranky when I don't._

YOU'RE NOT SLEEPING NOW, he replies.

 _This conversation isn't really happening_ comes back equally as fast. He imagines her curled on her side, making faces at her phone. She sleeps closest to the wall, but somehow ends up on her back, sheets tangled around her leg. Her mother told him once that she moves, has moved ever since she was a kid. She's an active dreamer. He thinks it's a little cute.

COME DOWN STAIRS.

_No._

YES.

He's already standing, grabbing a blanket off of his bed. His feet shuffle forward and he gets to the living room, amused again when he sees Regal's silhouette framing the window. His list is still on the coffee table too, Youngji's handwriting big, bright, and bold on the top: **FEED YOUR DONKEY~^^** because of course, she thinks he's not going to remember the donkey in the backyard.

He sits on the couch. Footsteps sound somewhere in the sitting room. He hears a sigh at the stairs and then she's walking downstairs quietly, carefully because Youngji can't and won't say no to him for whatever strange, bizarre reason that he just can't understand.

"Yah." Her voice is sleepy. She sits on the couch next to him and he grabs his blanket, tossing it over her legs. "It's after twelve. Your birthday's over."

"We can pretend," he teases.

She laughs. "Uh-huh."

He rubs his eyes, then watches her as she shifts and turns her head onto the back cushion, resting her head on her arms. She looks tired, he thinks, and not because it's late. It's the same look that he gets, the other gets, and that hardest part that no one really knows how to deal with. It's one of those looks that makes him want to reach in and protect her.

"Did you have a good birthday?"

He meets her gaze, caught. His mouth curls.

"It was a good day." She looks worried, suddenly, and he reaches forward, flicking her nose. "Seriously," he says. "I didn't even know you knew."

She shrugs, pushing his hand away. "I asked," she says cryptically. He wrinkles his nose and she laughs. "I promised I wouldn't tell," she says too.

His eyes narrow. "Which one?"

" _Nope_."

"JB --" he guesses because, well, JB would be the first one to say something. Then Mark or Jr. because Mark and Jr. basically tell him that if he doesn't do anything, they will, which is stupid because, like, _bros_ and all but then again, it's not like he doesn't know what they mean either. He blinks and chokes. "Bambam, then?"

"Uh-huh." He's not surprise because Youngji has half of his members eating out the palm of her hand. "It was sweet," she says, and makes no effort to tell him what happened. He shifts uncomfortably and she hits his arm. "But I knew," she says, admits really, and he's super, super surprised. "I looked it up. Birthdays are important."

"You're cute," he mutters.

"I know."

She flashes a smile. Her fingers split into a victory sign and he grabs a pillow, hitting her lightly.

"Yah!"

Jackson smirks. "You'll live."

"I came down here out of the goodness of my heart," she says, pouting. She kicks his leg. "That was _mean_."

His finger presses against his mouth. " _Shh_. We're going to get in trouble." He motions to the donkey, outside. "He's already anxious because of --"

"He likes Regal," she interrupts. "Dongwook-oppa was really happy that you were happy. We talked about it in the car."

"You talked about me?"

Youngji blushes and he doesn't mean to tease her, but it's a really pretty blush that sets itself across her cheeks, even prettier because she is totally aware that she's just admitted to talking about him. They're unapologetic about it. In all the relationships he's formed over the past year, couple years really, she is the most honest person he knows. She doesn't hide herself, doesn't even make any sort of effort to hide herself from either; she's never been that kind of girl, she always says, and somehow, that makes it even more attractive.

He leans forward, into her space, and grabs her legs. It's dark in the living room. The camera close to his room is off, the one by Cucumber is usually the only other one late at night. All the roommates are familiar with the schematics and somehow, being an idol or in this business, you get really good at moving in between corners and keeping your privacy. He feels really clumsy, all of the sudden, and drapes her legs over his lap, his fingers curling gently around her ankle. She studies him.

"What's wrong?" she asks then. His thumb drags lightly over her sock. It slips and brushes some skin. He bites the inside of his mouth to hide his surprise. "You look serious," she says too.

"Tired," he murmurs.

"Go to bed." She nods towards his room. Her hair is spilling out of her ponytail. She tugs at her bangs. "Aren't you traveling tomorrow?"

Jackson nods. "In the afternoon. After the donkey."

Youngji laughs.

"What about you?" he asks, and he knows that she's got another comeback on the way. He kind of feels a little guilty. She always asks about him, knows his birthday and makes sure she goes after that information so that she can tell everyone else. She never asks for anything.

"What about me?"

He pokes her nose again. "Listen."

"Listening," she quips.

"Yah --"

Jackson starts to get flustered, wide-eyed as she leans forward, her knees turning slightly into his stomach. She bites her lip, another sleepy grin making its way against her mouth.

"What?" she asks.

His eyes move to her mouth. He feels a little perverted and strangely shy for thinking about her mouth. Her lips are fully. They're kissable, he thinks, and god, _god_ that's ridiculously cheesy but he can't help but think about her and her mouth like this. He sings songs about girls all the time, pretty girls, but talking to the one in front of him about simple, stupid things feels nearly impossible.

He thinks about things like _distance_. He wonders if her mouth is soft. Does it taste like dessert? He does like sweet things.

"Jackson." She pushes lightly at his chest. "Are you there?"

He scoffs and his hand twists, shifting to push her hair away from her face. Her cheek is soft and she sort of watches him, curiously, confused, and with some interest. His mouth opens and closes.

"Jackson?"

He has a problem, he thinks. "Nothing," he mutters, looking away.

Youngji shrugs it off. She'll fall asleep with him here, on the couch, until she has to get up and head out again, to the airport and a flight to Japan. They'll shift and move around a lot. Her head finds its way to a pillow and maybe, maybe he'll let himself touch her hair a bit -- she talks in her sleep, remember, and he can sleep in the car when he's on his way too. 

He won't stop thinking about it though. He almost kissed her.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

"I have a problem."

Mark barely looks up from the game. "You have several," he says from the floor. "Which one are we talking about?"

Jackson glares at his friend, stretching his legs out on the floor. The practice room is empty. They're waiting for the others to come back with lunch and someone went to rescue Youngjae from the piano and the song writing rooms because, well, if they don't, he'll forget to eat lunch, dinner, and breakfast all over again.

Mark studies him for a moment. His mouth twitches. "Ah," he says then. His head tilts. "It's your problem that's not really a problem because you like Youngji, but you don't really know what to do because... well, you're a nerd."

"I hate you."

"No," Mark says. "You don't."

Jackson groans loudly, dropping back against the floor. His arm covers his eyes. He thinks about his birthday again. Then he thinks about sitting with her on the couch, after. Alone, he tells himself too. It wasn't like they were sneaking around.

Mark sighs. "What happened?"

"I almost kissed her," he mutters and skips the part where he decided that he wanted to have her call him oppa all day which, well, sort of worked out but not really because she got really shy about it and he didn't know why. "But I'm not sure," he admits too. "I mean, I thought about it and we were talking and she looked really pretty, sitting there, kinda sleepy, but she was there and her --"

"Should've kissed her," Mark says.

Jackson glares. "You sound like my mom."

"She would have told you to kiss her too." Mark smirks and throws his hat at his face. "You know your mom's, like, in love with her."

Jackson tries to glare again. It's not a lie. His mom makes it a habit to ask about Youngji every time they talk. It's nice and it's weird and it's the same sort of feeling he gets when Youngji's mom sends food home with him when he visits, or makes sure to tell him to _take better care of yourself_ because she worries a lot.

"Ugh," he mutters. "I still hate you."

He pushes himself off the floor. Mark watches him and Jackson stretches his arms back.

"You don't hate me. You _hate_ that I'm right."

Jackson rubs his face. "I want to kiss her."

"So kiss her, dude. We're rooting for you."

"That's not the _problem_ ," he huffs, frustrated. He feels oddly vulnerable because admitting to wanting to kiss a girl isn't the same as admitting to want to kiss Youngji. He's basically gone and admitted that he likes her, sees her differently, but it doesn't seem to faze anyone. "It's stupid --"

"You're stupid." Mark stands too. "And this conversation is pretty dumb too. Just kiss her."

He shakes his head. "It's not that simple."

"It is!" Mark stretches his arms out. Outside the door, they can hear the others laughing and approaching. He hopes they brought the food, Jackson thinks. Mark claps his hands in front of his face. "Focus, man. You like her. She likes you. Your fans don't even care because not liking Youngji is like not liking puppies -- who doesn't like puppies, really. She's cute. She's talented. And the universe is waiting for you guys to admit that you've been secretly dating for ten years --"

"That's dramatic," Jackson's voice is dry.

"You know what I mean." His friend shakes his head. "You're thinking too much. What's the worst that can happen?"

This is the question. Because he can imagine a million different scenarios. He does it all the time; just like when he decided to move to Korea, to try his luck and try this kind of life. He imagines the same kind of loneliness, the fierce kind that would haunt him if she went, rejected him, and remind close to him all the same.

It hits him this way. He can't lose her. He's not even that romantic. He can't lose her and that's that. It even goes beyond reasoning though; _can't_ is so different than _won't_. He knows how she thinks; they're on an even par when it comes to this stuff, but he doesn't know why he can't bring himself to ask her _the_ question, or go beyond the question and just do something about it.

"You're right," he mutters.

His phone is sitting on the couch by the mirror. He should call her, he thinks. He steps forward, but then stops.

"I'm an idiot." 

Mark shrugs. "I know." Then he pauses, hitting his arm. "Just don't rent a donkey for her, okay?"

Jackson throws his hat back into his face.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

He usually beats her back to the _Roommate_ house. Kang Joon texts him to let him know that she's there first though, which is weird, until he _actually_ reads the texts as he's walking into the house.

"She's in our room?"

Dongwook appears, cereal in hand. "She fell down the stairs," he informs him, shrugging. He points to Cucumber. "This one got loose and startled her. It's not bad, she just has to stay off it while she's here and we figured since --"

Jackson doesn't even finish listening to Dongwook, dropping his bag and heading to his room. The door is open. The night lights are on and there's music coming from the phone, he sees, on Kang Joon's bed. 

Youngji is in his bed.

His heart is pounding. His palms are hot. His fingers twitch when he finally lets himself see her. Youngji's eyes are closed. He leg is propped up by two pillows at the end of the bed. There's no blanket and her hair is loose, spreading over his pillow as she sort of turns, towards the door, but doesn't say anything to let him know she's awake.

He feels so stupid right now, he thinks. He can't help but move to her, over Kang Joon's bed, even though the doors open and the others could come in. He reaches for her though, then stops, then reaches for her again. His hand touches her arm. Then it moves and touches her cheek, his fingers spreading lightly over her jaw. He feels nervous and shaky, sort of like he should be doing this but he _shouldn't_ , like it's too private of a moment for them to have.

She makes a soft noise and turns towards his hand. He waits a minute. Then, slowly, her eyes start to open.

"Hi."

He scowls. "Can't leave you alone, huh."

"I was fine," she mutters. Then she yawns. She tries to sit up and he tries to stop her; they compromise and he helps her lean against the wall, adjusting the pillow against her back. "I don't know what happened," she shrugs. "Cucumber just went, I followed, slipped and twisted it."

"You should be careful," he scolds.

She pushes at his arm. "You'll get your bed back," she says and worry flashes across her face, but she hides it quickly. He feels guilty. "Or you can carry me upstairs."

"How are you going --" he holds his hand up and she laughs, "-- don't even answer that," he tells her. "You're going to stay here. I'll just sleep on the couch."

Youngji softens. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever." He grins, but then that fades too because he sees the way she's watching him and he sort of, okay, he needs to do something about it. It's guilt and that worry _thing_ is making its way back across her face, her mouth, and in her eyes. "Stop _thinking_ ," he warns.

Her mouth curls. "Get out of my head then."

They laughs and she yawns again. He shifts and leans against the wall next to her, reaching for one of Kang Joon's blankets. It fits across his legs. Just in case, he thinks. Then he blushes and doesn't know why.

He watches her eyes close again. He thinks about saying something stupid like _is this going to be a thing_ because he knows she'd laugh, she always always laughs at his dumb jokes, and that's kind of a sign too, right? 

"You sure you're okay?"

"Mmhm," she murmurs, and her head starts to drop. He reaches forward and slides her head to rest against his shoulder. She makes a soft sound and his fingers drag through her hair. "I'll be fine in the morning," she says too.

"I --"

She hits his thigh. "Stop worrying," she says. Her eyes don't open and his fingers brush her jaw. "You'll get your bed back."

Then they're quiet again.

He doesn't know how long they sit there, or how long her head stays on her shoulder, the way her hair sort of tickles at her neck, and how he knows that the others come in, but not completely in, and hover at the door to watch them. He's content to let her sleep and to have this moment to himself. It's kind of like a kiss, kind of not, kind of more than what he can begin to understand.

"I'm glad you're okay," he says quietly, _awkwardly_ , and hates himself because she sighs and somehow, suddenly, he knows she's awake.

Youngji looks up. Her gaze is soft and low. Her mouth turns and she nudges him too.

So he does it.

His mouth touches hers. It's tentative. Her lips are warm. They part first and he tastes a soft sigh. It tastes like surprise. But then her hand finds his, her fingers sliding over the back his hand and into his palm. Their fingers link and then he opens his mouth over hers, tasting her. She's as sweet as he thought she'd be, as shy as he is, and it's new and strange and really, really _awesome_.

She breaks away first and her eyes are open, wide and bright and he's strangely more aware of everything about her. She's close. Her breath catches. This moment is important enough to be this quiet.

"Hi," she murmurs.

"Hey," he says, and pulls back, still holding her hand over his thigh. Her mouth curls and he studies her. "You've never looked prettier," he tells her.

Her face flushes and she hits his chest.

"Yah!" 

Jackson laughs.

"I wanted to kiss you first," she says, confesses, and makes him a little crazy all the same.

"Well," he says. "Too slow."

Her eyes narrow. "Rude."

"We could pretend it never happened," he teases her and she laughs, squeezing his hand. "And then I could stage an event and then --"

"No," she argues. "You'd put something in food. And ruin, like, a perfectly good cupcake."

"I would not!"

" _Would too_." Youngji's nose wrinkles. "Remember. I don't _like_ objects in food."

"Because you're weird," he insists.

She laughs again.

"But you like it," she says too.

"Yeah," he agrees. Jackson smirks and brushes his fingers against her face once more. "Unfortunately for you," he says and he's serious, just briefly, enough for her to lean in and brush her mouth over his nose. "You're sorta stuck with this, you know."

She hums. "I know."

Her head drops against his shoulder again and she turns into him, closer to him, and this, he thinks, is exactly why he doesn't like quiet rooms.

It doesn't need to be an event. Jackson would rather stay with her.


End file.
